She was tall.
While he didn't consider himself to have a 'type', there was something about a mare that could look him in the eye, something that made an infamously strict Solar Guard Captain act foolishly. Indescrete was a word his colleagues used, but they were just embarrassed to admit their own truths. Not that it mattered currently. They were the ones exhausting themselves on display. He could hear the crowds cheering even this deep in the building, his troops busy dodging lances, gathering rings, and catching errant balls.
Carousel wasn't for him.
"Hello. Do I know you, Miss ...?" His not-voice projected, its harsh echo undercutting any attempt at being sauve.
"Cosette, Crackle Cossete," the mare said, her cool gaze setting his body ablaze.
This was a bad idea. The third in six months. She'd found out about the last two, but one more go around couldn't hurt, right?